The pen, it thrives inspiration.
Channelling thoughts; emotions of my being.
For if I don’t feel it the pen can not write it.
The pen writes so only I understand.
I am the master; it the slave…
A slave to my heart like fingers to a hand.
The pen is my friend.
The pen is my guide.
For the pen speaks my soul.
What is this pain inside my head?
Maybe I’m dying. Maybe I’m dead.
What if I live in this limbo state?
Where will I go? What is my fate?
My mind is collapsing. Am I insane?
A single tear is all I can cry A single tear before I can die A final tear I cannot deny A final tear, a
The pendulum ticks with every sway. With every sway another second Forever gone… Until the next one. Another breath of air escaping unnoticed, leaving me
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